Dreaming of You- No, Not You
by StellatheAlchemist
Summary: Some of Austria's dreams are pleasant. Some of them are nightmares, memories of dark times in his long life. And some of them... Involve his manly relatives dressed up like princesses. ((Crackfic. Short, slight mentions of AusHun, K for language.))


**((This is a weird little story here. It was inspired when I rewatched the WAS saga last night. I made a comment on the comm about how when I first saw it, Maria Theresa freaked me out because due to the generic-looking Studio DEEN art, I couldn't stop seeing her face as Germany. Thanks to Anime and her fabulous plot bunnies, this was born. It was fun to write. Pretty easy too, since due to the nature of the story I didn't have to worry too much about historical accuracy, plot, etc.))**

Austria stood in a familiar hallway, not entirely sure how he had gotten there or why, though somehow this issue did not seem to concern him at all. Things seemed rather hazy and wibbly-wobbly, yet he was dimly aware of the fact that he was in Schönbrunn Palace.

Curious, Austria walked down the hallway a few steps and soon noticed a feminine figure standing with its back to him, wearing clothes that suggested nobility. Despite the dreamy fog and lack of details, Austria immediately knew who it was.

"Your majesty?" Austria called out hesitantly. There was no response.

"Excuse me, your majesty?" he tried again. This time the woman seemed startled for a moment, but quickly adjusted her dress and turned to face him.

Austria's eyes went wide when he saw the person before him. It appeared at first glance to be his old boss, Maria Theresa, but upon closer inspection, he saw a buff masculine figure and the distinctive face of none other than Germany.

"Ja- I mean, yes?" the Germany-queen-thing replied, clearing her? his? their? throat and attempting, and failing, to imitate a girly voice.

"I... uh... Why does your face look so stupid?" Austria blurted out, unable to contain his surprise and confusion.

"Oh, well excuse me! At least I don't have an ugly mole like yo-" Germany (At this point Austria had decided it was indeed Germany) began, before correcting himself and attempting the girly voice again. "I mean, how dare you, Austria! That is no way to talk to your boss!"

"You're not my boss," Austria replied plainly.

"Of course I am! Are you denying my authority to rule?"

"No, I'm denying your ridiculous costume," Austria corrected him. "I mean, really, is that a wig?"

"Look who's talking, your moustache is ridiculous," Germany retorted.

"What moustache?" Austria asked confusedly, before noticing a large bushy black moustache covering his upper lip. Shocked and abhorred, he turned to see a very young Italy run away down the hall, carrying a large paintbrush and giggling cutely.

"That doesn't even make sense, you can't just paint moustaches on people!" Austria exclaimed in frustration.

"Austria, go practice your shooting," Germany ordered, once again using the horrible high voice.

"But I-"

"Go, or I'll take away your piano," he insisted.

"Yes, your majesty," Austria found himself saying reluctantly, despite his internal protests. Against his will, he somehow began walking to the courtyard.

There he found Switzerland and Liechtenstein, each armed with rifles the size of cannons which they used to shoot portraits of various nations, including one of himself. Austria went slightly pale.

Deciding he'd rather not get shot, Austria turned around and began quietly heading back the way he came.

When he came back, he found several soldiers talking to the "queen". Ducking behind a column to avoid getting caught, he listened to what they were saying.

"We've received word that the Prussians are planning a surprise attack from the east," one of the soldiers explained. "They've got unicorns, too, but we should be able to counter them."

"Surprise attack? Don't be ridiculous," Germany replied, still doing the fake girly voice. "They're much more likely to draw us out, then attack by flanking from the right."

"What makes you say that?" the soldier asked confusedly.

"Because he told me," Germany replied simply.

"...With all due respect, your majesty, why would he-"

"Look bitch, I'm the archduchess of Austria. Don't diss me, or I'll have you hung for treason. And your favorite composer," he added as an afterthought.

"NO! NOT MOZART! Forgive me, O Just Queen!" the soldier begged, bowing deeply in apology.

"You can't just have people executed whenever you like. This isn't the dark ages, you know," Austria pointed out.

"I thought I told you to go practice your shooting," Germany mumbled darkly, glaring at Austria.

"Well I was going to, but I don't-"

"Your majesty! Hungary has arrived!" another soldier announced.

Hoping his ex-wife would save him from the insanity he'd had to deal with so far, Austria turned around excitedly. His eyes went wide with horror when he saw the truth.

It was not Hungary at all, but France in Hungary's clothes. France was disturbing enough on his own, but this was much worse.

"Hello Austria!" France called, winking and attempting to imitate Hungary's voice. "You know, I've REALLY missed you..."

Austria screamed.

* * *

Austria sat up in bed, screaming.

"Austria, what's wrong?" Hungary asked sleepily, fumbling for the light switch.

"I had the most disturbing dream," Austria replied, shuddering in horror.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hungary asked gently.

"No, I'm fine," Austria insisted, regaining his composure. "It was just a dream, nothing worth worrying about."

"Alright then. Goodnight," Hungary said, turning off the light and lying back down.

"...One thing, though..."

"Yes, dear?"

"Promise me you'll NEVER grow a beard."


End file.
